Talking to the dead is a pasttime that many “old-house people” entertain themselves with during the many hours of labor they put into their homes, as these structures are the evidence of human lives lived. Families who dreamed of a place to call their own, who worked hard, planned, saved, and designed. Laborers who toiled, unnamed, forgotten, whose efforts erected these still-standing edifices that inspire us and allow us to dream of a long-lost time. Craftsmen who applied the decorative elements that give these homes their unique character and make them beautiful. A personal connection that no other hobby can possess, from the blank canvas of an artist, the raw wood of the cabinetmaker, or the natural materials of the gardener.
Often I muse about Jenny’s ideas and intentions when she was planning this house. This helps to guide decisions about how the house should function today, with a sensitivity to how it has functioned in the past. I agonize over trying to respect her vision for the home when I think about how to properly restore elements that were lost to time, or confront the challenge of hiding modern conveniences with the least alteration to the original building.
On other occasions, I curse through gritted teeth, sweat dripping down my back and dust thick in my hair; angry words directed at the long-dead painter who slapped a thick white coat of lead paint over beautiful faux-graining. I have choked back sobs of loss when I tell my friend Darrell how beautiful his chandelier looks hanging in my house, and tell him about the great adventure he is missing out on.
Sometimes it is simply quiet reflection, conversations with Jenny, Elizabeth and Louise, musings about what they would think about their house today, whether they would approve, and what it would be like to meet each of them here, to appreciate together this beauty of a structure that we each have had a chance to occupy, and make our own.
These thoughts and feelings often surprise me when they come, as I don’t feel any real presence in the house, but they leave me with a sense of a stronger connection to the home — almost as though, good or bad, my thoughts, feelings and words have been heard and acknowledged, and that my input here has been registered somewhere on another plane, to be acknowledged and answered in another time.
While I often find myself talking to ghosts in this house, this weekend was the first experience I ever had where the dead talked back.
It has been six years since our 30+ year-old steam boiler finally breathed its last breath of steam, and the chaos that ensued has left us without heat ever since. Sure, we have the furnace and forced air system servicing the basement, which keeps the pipes from freezing, and we placed an oil-filled electic space heater in every bathroom, but even Southern Virginia Winters get cold enough to allow you to see your breath as you fall asleep under the electric blanket. This year we were determined to do something about it.
We were seeking out a group of experts to untangle the mess made by the second and third companies we hired to work on our steam system after its initial demise. The first company led us along for a half a year before we realized they had no intention of even showing up. Perhaps they did us a favor? In any event, our search led us to “All Steamed Up,” a reputable Baltimore company with proven longevity and a faithful following. The members of the steam boiler listservs deferred to their expertise, and the testimonials spoke volumes.
This weekend, we had scheduled a visit from them, and were met by Gordon, who I can only describe as a “Steam Heat Enthusiast.” This was clearly not his job, but rather his hobby and his passion. His initial survey of the system included a forensic analysis of the parts that had been removed through the interventions of the two recent HVAC companies who hacked up the system. He lined the parts up, like so many body parts, matching pieces to one another like some bizarre dismemberment of my steam system. He explained why the “dead men”, who originally installed the steam system, used these parts, and why they were necessary to the optimal functioning of the system. The insensitive removal of these parts was almost an affront to Gordon, whose respect for the long-dead tradesmen was palpable.
Every noise was a whispered word, as the steam boiler was turned on and the system began to tap and hiss. Gordon would freeze, listen intently, then provide interpretation to what the system was saying to him. The clink of puddle of trapped water resulting from the incorrect reducing fitting that had been recently installed, the pounding of another collection of water due to pipes installed sloping in the wrong direction. Each sound had a different meaning, each with a specific solution.
Upstairs, even the radiator steam vents spoke their dead language into his ears. One vent stopped him in his tracks as we were walking by — there is trapped water in that one, he interpreted for me. A happy steam vent, he explained, says hisssssssssssssssssss, click. This one says hiss/whistle/hiss/whistle/hiss in spasms. That is the steam hitting trapped water, causing it to immediately condense, creating a vacuum, which results in the sucking-in whistling noise.
As Gordon continued his conversation with my steam system, I began to see it as a living thing. The boiler as a heart, pumping the essential steam through the arteries of its pipes, and ultimately to radiators, appendages placed in all corners of the house, which allowed the house to be a comfortable place and to function as it was designed — for living, entertaining, loving, growing, working and relaxing. Like a living organism, each component of the system; valves, fittings, condensate, and steam, all had purpose and worked together to create this comfort. Any component not working properly created a problem for the system as a whole.
Unfortunately, that meant that our system was quite ill. The living people who had worked on it recently had made many mistakes, not knowing the essential properties and proper parts that a steam system needed in order to function as it was intended. Gordon produced an ancient steam boiler mechanic pocket guide, to show me the standards that these long-gone tradesmen held themselves to. The standard contract outlined in the appendix deemed that this mechanic would not be paid a dime for his work until: the steam system operated noiselessly; that all of the radiators would get hot at the same time; that each radiator would heat evenly; and that the system would raise the ambient temperature in the house by a certain number of degrees over a certain period of time. The confidence these people had in the quality of their work, and the pride that they displayed was inspirational.
Using those same calculation tables in that ancient pocket guide, Gordon made a thorough inventory of our system, the load required, the current radiator surface areas, the boilers, and the piping. His care and exacting attention to detail was no less than the online reviews had led me to expect. He explained fully everything he was seeing wrong with the system, and what the priorities were for fixing it. Not only was he knowledgeable, but personable as well. From his hilarious stories of steam heat debacles, tales of curious challenges, and discussions of variant types of steam systems, it was fun and educational to follow him around for the weekend.
As we parted, and he tallied up his reasonable expense report for the consultation and system repairs done to get the heat functional until his next visit, I noticed that his T-shirt said “Dead Men” and wondered at the unusual moniker. This, he explained was how a small cadre of steam heating experts today referred to themselves. Over 150 years ago, the people who originally installed steam systems were experts and professionals. The ones who came after them, for the most part, were poorly trained, unprofessional, and caused more problems than they fixed due to their lack of understanding of basic principles. The few steam experts and aficionados now existing have distinguished themselves by memorializing those who they wish to emulate — the “Dead Men” who came before them, the tradesmen who took pride in their work and who were experts in their field. A fitting title, if I ever heard one.
It was a pleasure meeting this member of the “Dead Men”, and I look forward to this Summer when he and his team return to ultimately fix all of the problems that the living men created.
Carla Minosh
While I am new to Blogging, I have always enjoyed sharing the stories of my crazy life, so this is simply another medium to share, and hopefully entertain and enrich others. Perhaps you can feel thankful that your life is so steady and predictable after reading these, perhaps you can appreciate the insanity and wish you had more of it in your life. Either way, the crazy tales are all true (to the best of my spotty recollection) and simply tell the tale of a life full of exploration, enthusiasm, curiosity and hard work. I hope you all enjoy being a part of the journey.
I just spent $18,000 on getting my 1894 radiator system back into working order, even though I inherited a new forced-air heating system (installed by the previous owner).
However, I have no idea yet if the $18,000 will result in heat! It is now summer, and only time will tell.
If not, I may need to entice Gordon to Kansas….